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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243365">Hound</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rob0tguts/pseuds/rob0tguts'>rob0tguts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grand Theft Auto V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, How Do I Tag, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Los Santos, Love Confessions, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Narcissism, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Self-Indulgent, Smut</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:54:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26243365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rob0tguts/pseuds/rob0tguts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This all started as a get away plan. An escape from what used to be in order to create a new reality. Working for a guy like Trevor Philips was the last thing Benny thought he'd ever do. But now that he's started, He isn't too sure he wants to stop.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amanda De Santa/Michael De Santa, Franklin Clinton/Lamar Davis, Original male character/Trevor Philips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hound</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello to anyone that happens to stumble upon this fic. This is all incredibly self-indulgent and a way to get me out of a mental slump. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I learned immediately that being a hound for a guy like Trevor was closer to a death sentence than sugar was to its cousin salt. You either lived every day in fear of this man himself or feared whatever obstacle he decided to put you through. </p><p>No single day or night in good ole Trevor Philip's care was ever the same. Everything remained in a constant loop of utter chaos and crimson storms of bullets and pills that got the blood pumping and fire in your eyes burning. </p><p>Well, It's not as if some days weren't quaint here, it's just that something or someone always came along to escalate the situation. </p><p>I could be filing an unnecessary report on the trailers ratty old couch one minute only to have a gang of idiot bikers barking at the front door in the next. (God forbid it be a band of Chinese henchmen. But, they could be dealt with too.) </p><p>I guess you could say that I take pride in always being the guy to take it all a greater step further. Though, I will admit that some days I find myself wondering when and how the hell my life got so... interesting. And if the thrill of it all will come back to bite me in the ass with more vigor then I can handle. </p><p>Of course, the logical answer is yes.</p><p>I may head a crazy life, but I'm no man that ignores the truth. </p><p>My truth.</p><p>A few years ago, when pocket change became as rare to me as a loose dollar bill. When I could have never imagined this life for myself. A life that was far from honest but a life that was definitely far too good.</p><p>I realized that none of that shit will ever matter unless I make it so.</p><p>I enjoy the thrill of waking up every morning with a new task or call to action shoved in my face. I serve off of the danger and adrenaline as if it were a better source of oxygen. </p><p>The violence became second nature. The money a constant comfort. And Banding together with like-minded men and women to go against the government was honestly my new favorite hobby.</p><p>Until death do us part, World.</p><p>I pity men who think life isn't a shit show. Men that kid themselves into thinking that any of us were meant to be real saints. </p><p>Whether they like it or not, there's a dark cloud hanging over humanity. Our Humanity. People often train themselves to ignore it. A mindless attempt at submerging their hurt under waves of distractions and addictions. They build malleable moralities that seldom make sense.</p><p>But I see it. </p><p>I know it's there. </p><p>And I know that I am no saint.</p><p>Before that golden day in Vine Wood Plaza. Before Sandy Shores. Before Trevor and his friends. Before any of this.</p><p>I owned a sad life. </p><p>I remember sleepless nights under busy bridges. Baths in muddy rivers. Meals every other night...If I were lucky. I remember begging strangers for spare change and getting spat on by those same people. </p><p>I remember wanting to die a lot more than every other Sunday afternoon. </p><p>I remember so many things. Especially now that life has become a permanent tidal wave. </p><p>And I owe it to that fucking fool.</p><p>Trevor.</p><p>I guess that is the sole reason I still pull weight with him. Sure, the guy was dangerously manic, impulsive, greedy, and in my case, annoying as all hell, but in a way, he saved my life.</p><p>And like a hound, I grew increasingly attached. </p><p>Like a hound, I stay in place.</p><p>~~~</p><p>There is a bar I frequent dubbed the Yellow Jack Inn. It sits between Panorama Drive and Route 68. It is owned by an admirable older woman named Janet, who has frizzy red hair and friendly doe brown eyes.</p><p>The drinks are nice, though I suppose I stick around because she is nicer. </p><p>When I visit, I'm normally met with a bar peppered with hillbillies, bikers, and passing through the county folk. But today, I'm surprised to see that the bar is exceptionally empty. </p><p>"Hello, Jan." I greet Janet as soon as I spot her standing behind the bar. She's nursing from a St. Pauli, a drink I've come to learn as her absolute favorite; alongside a slew of just about anything else she could get her hands on.  I take a seat and smile. "You payin' for that?"</p><p>She snorts. </p><p>"'S my bar so 'S my drink," she shrugs before slamming her empty bottle on the table, causing me to sit at closer inspection. </p><p>Something bad was going on. At least with her.</p><p>I watch as Janet frowns at her knuckles for a bit. She often did this as she got lost in thought. Unlike most folks around here, she imagined a bit before she spoke. </p><p>"If you need me to hurt someone for you just say so," I offer, beating her to the punch.</p><p>Janet snaps her mouth shut and tilts her head with that bemused smirk of hers. </p><p>"You're always out to hurt somebody. Whether it be for 'someone in need' or because you simply feel like such." She shakes her head and turns round to grab two drinks from the cooler. She hands me one before letting out an exaggerated sigh. "But yeah, I'd appreciate that."</p><p>It doesn't take long for her to fill me up with all of the details. To put it simply, her husband got "kidnapped" by a group of dubious hillbillies. They all went up to shoot some deer up in Mount Chiliad. </p><p>"I wouldn't be worried if Josef weren't so anxiety-ridden. Hell, he doesn't even know how to hold a gun and he gets spooked by the gunfire." She says.  "And those men...I don't trust them. They might hurt him if he says something wrong and... Josef...well, he forever says something wrong that man."</p><p>She uncaps my drink and I gracefully take a sip.</p><p>"Alright then." I stand up and quickly make my way towards the door. "Guess I'll be taking this to go."</p><p>Janet shouts something before I reach the exit.</p><p>"Aren't you gonna pay for that?"  She lectures mockingly. </p><p>I shrug.</p><p>"Maybe later?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Whoa, you actually read this crap? Kudos to you.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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